


to have (and to hold)

by disorderedorder



Category: Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Pre-TFA, Vaginal Sex, soft dom Kylo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 04:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: you never meant to find someone like Kylo Ren the way you did.Kylo never meant to find someone he couldn't imagine living without.





	to have (and to hold)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [huttslayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huttslayer/gifts).



> for huttslayer, for being so amazing and for being one of the best writers in the reader insert fandom since she started writing

You weren’t exactly sure when you became so close to Commander Ren. Your first days on the Finalizer were spent getting to know the floor plan of the ship, learning your duties, and getting used to your early morning schedule that usually started at around five hundred hours. Your colleagues from the academy would send you messages constantly, congratulating you on such a good post, but you missed them too much to really care about how ‘good’ your post was. You knew that the ship was big enough to easily make friends, but you kept to yourself for the most part, and being the ship’s top language interpreter and translator didn’t really require too much interaction with other people. Usually, you stayed huddled in your office, helping make sense of encrypted messages for the superior officers.

 

One day, however, you had been given a message in a language you weren’t familiar with, which was unusual. You had decided in the academy that you were going to specialize in languages, as well as encryption, and you’d studied both for six years, until you graduated. But this language was something ancient, something you’d never even seen in your oldest history books. You’d searched the First Order-approved search engine all night, hoping for a clue of what it might be, but you were met with dead end after dead end. You hated using a secondary search engine, since you relied mostly on your mind, but this had been a special case. 

 

You’d consulted General Hux, who’d been just as stumped as you were, but then he’d grudgingly suggested asking the commander. The idea had terrified you, but you were determined not to let even the tallest, most intimidating member of the ship scare you too much. After all, it was just a message to interpret. Though you’d been confused as to why the general had suggested the commander, you didn’t dare argue. You’d heard stories around the ship, rumors about the Jedi and something involving the Supreme Leader, but you’d never connected them to the commander. Perhaps this was a setback of being holed up in your office most of the day; you missed things you should have been informed about, even if it was fleeting, word-of-mouth gossip. 

 

When you arrived at his quarters, per the directions given to you by a passing security trooper, you had suddenly felt smaller than you were, like a child waiting at a parent’s door. You’d knocked three times, almost too softly, but the door had slid open to reveal a tall, broad figure, over a foot taller than you were, one hand resting at the saber clipped to his belt. You fought to keep your breath steady, and you stated your business, albeit a bit nervously. As you kept your hands folded behind your back, you gripped one uniform sleeve so tightly that the fabric wrinkled. 

 

The commander was silent, but he’d invited you inside and allowed you to show him the message on your datapad. You scrolled through the lengthy message slowly, explaining that despite being the ship’s translator, you couldn’t make anything of it. The commander took your datapad from you, studying the message himself before explaining that it was ancient Sith writing, and it must have been a message from his Master, for him. While you had been relieved to know that it was for him, it still frustrated you that it was something you didn’t know how to read. 

 

It was then that the commander had offered to teach you the language, if you swore never to teach another person.  He explained that he shouldn’t have been teaching you in the first place, but as the ship’s interpreter, you had the right to know, especially since this wouldn’t be the first time you would receive and have to translate a message in ancient Sith. At first, you hesitated. The commander was not known to be a patient man, nor a lenient one. But your desire for knowledge outweighed your fear, and you’d agreed. 

 

Over the next nine months, the commander had taught you what he knew of the language, and after the third month, allowed you to call him by his name: Kylo. There was a surprising gentleness to him, especially in your sessions. Something about when he was teaching and explaining the verbs and nouns and conjugations made him seem calmer, more relaxed. And without his helmet, he seemed like a completely different being. His face was elegant, sculpted beautifully, from his deep brown eyes to his full, gentle lips, to the moles that dotted his face like little constellations. He stood a towering six feet, eight inches, over a foot taller than you. He spoke softly, patiently, leaving you time to ask questions. 

 

As time went on, he taught you how to write the characters as well. You had never done well with handwriting in the academy when it came to other languages outside of Basic. While your calligraphy was beautiful, it served no purpose other than to look nice on an invitation. But Kylo was patient, gently correcting you when you added an accent mark in the wrong place, or when a line was too long or short. Sometimes, he even held your hand while you held your brush, helped guide your hand across the page to write. 

 

Slowly, you opened up to him, in the few hours each day you got to spend together. You expressed a passion for writing, shared stories from your childhood, lamented a little about how hard it was sometimes when you missed your friends from home and your colleagues from the academy. Sometimes the conversation was trivial, but sometimes, when it got too late, you found yourself talking about some of the deepest parts of yourself. Kylo was a good listener, or maybe he just liked that you talked so he didn’t have to. 

  
You wondered sometimes if he’d ever open up, but he never did, and you never pushed him. While you always were curious, you always kept it to yourself as much as you could. But you did notice Kylo reaching out to converse with you occasionally, through the messaging system on your datapads. It was always small things, like asking if you still wanted to meet at the usual time you always did, or if you were ready to move onto the next part of your lessons, but it was always the small things that counted the most to you. You were quick to reply, and sometimes, he was, too. 

 

When a year had passed, you wondered if you could offer something in return, and when you had asked, Kylo’s reply had been simple. He wanted a companion, if you were willing. The proposition had shocked you, since ‘companion’ meant different things in different cultures, but Kylo explained when he’d seen the look on your face. He wanted to continue talking with you, and teach you more things he knew, if you were interested. When you had asked why, he said that he hadn’t felt as close to anyone as he did to you in a long, long time. 

 

You didn’t get much more time together, due to your position and your duties, but you began joining him for your afternoon meal, which you got an hour and a half for due to your importance, and you always came to see him right after your clocked time ended. And while you did enjoy your time with him, and some nights left you longing that you could stay with him, you always made an effort to retire early enough to allow yourself enough sleep to perform your duties in the morning. Your conversations with Kylo began to venture into more personal things, like what your childhood was like, what you enjoyed doing in your spare time, what you liked about the academy. 

 

The more you told Kylo about yourself, the more you wished to know about him, but you wanted him to tell you when he was comfortable, and not before. You knew from experience about forcing someone to tell you about their personal life too soon, that it didn’t end well. But as time went on, Kylo began to open up, slowly, and you learned more and more about him. He was haunted by his past, troubled by his present, worried for his future. He had nightmares that plagued him in the night, voices in his head that never left him alone, a master who was the thing of your worst fears. 

 

You felt for him, but it bothered you that you could do nothing but listen most of the time. Kylo Ren was not the monster that many feared him to be, at least, not in your eyes. He became less machine and more man to you as you got to know him, but you felt as though the more you knew him, the less you understood of the universe. Things that once seemed right to you, you suddenly questioned. Often, you found yourself wondering how things could have been different for Kylo if he’d never joined the Order. 

 

As the law of the universe often worked, there were only short, fleeting moments you got that were full of peace and the closest thing you might think Kylo would come to happiness, until reality kicked back in. The year you’d spent under his tutelage, you presumed, was one of those moments. It seemed almost too in sync that when the New Year came, Kylo was being sent off on missions every week with his knights, often leaving you without a companion on the ship, and later, on the new base, Starkiller. And while the general valued your contribution to the Order and especially your talent, you never got much more than that from him. Without Kylo, your life often felt dull, similar to how you’d felt before you even got to know him.

 

You lost yourself in your work, improving your skills and even learning how to translate music, but having no one to share it with. Many of the younger officers often invited you out with them, if they were taking a trip to Coruscant on a half day or day off, but you always turned them down. It didn’t take them long to stop asking. Soon, you felt like you were constantly swimming in words, in holos, in an endless mess of things yet to be understood. 

 

Kylo’s absence allowed you to think more deeply about your feelings for the commander himself, which you worried were dangerous. You were finding yourself thinking of him frequently, wondering if he’d appreciate something you translated, what he’d say, if he’d sit and ponder it like he used to do. You never saw him anymore, now with him being gone all of the time, whether on missions or training with his master. No holos were sent your way from him like they used to be, and so you found yourself reading over old messages from him, back from when you two had first met each other. 

 

It was more than three-quarters of the way through the New Year that Kylo finally returned. You heard of his arrival at the base the day it happened, while you were still working, and while you were tempted to leave your little nook in search of him, you forced yourself to wait until the day was over to find him. There was a nervousness that plagued you all day, that you hadn’t felt since your academy days. You found it difficult to concentrate, even on the easiest work you had, and when the little clock clicked to eighteen hundred hours, you had to force yourself to clean up and arrange things back in order to prepare for the morning instead of rushing out. 

 

He didn’t arrive at dinner with the superior officers, and there wasn’t a single message from him, no matter how many times you checked your inbox, which bothered you, no matter how many times you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. Even though you knew he had more important matters to deal with on the base, you still hoped he’d come to see you. The night wore on, until you had cleaned up and were getting ready for bed, and your clock ticked to twenty-two hundred hours. 

 

And now, you wait in the darkness of your room, hoping he’ll still come. The humming of the base’s units has become your lullaby, replacing the low buzzing of the Finalizer. Your room is moderately sized, your bedroom and sitting area and kitchen all one room, your bathroom just off to the side. Compared to the stormtrooper bunks, your room might as well be a castle, but compared to the general’s lavish quarters, it’s quite the opposite. A few pictures of yourself and your colleagues decorate your side table, and a photo album from home is tucked neatly into your wall safe, along with a few thousand credits and the original copies of your documents. A spare datapad, an older model, is tucked away as well, which holds every document and book and letter and message you’ve ever translated. 

 

Along the walls, the emergency lights glow dimly, a dull white light that casts your room in an odd light. You reach over to turn those off, too, leaving the moon as the only light. To your odd luck, your room was one of the outside rooms, that allowed a window to the snowy world outside. And now, you count the endless stars as you attempt to fall asleep. If you squint, you catch glimpses of ships leaving the planet, and even TIE fighter patrols. Your room is soundproofed from the outside, but you don’t have to hear the sound of the fighters to know what they sound like. Your time on the Finalizer allowed you to memorize their distinctive screams. 

 

You’ve nearly fallen asleep when there’s a knock on your door, that jolts you out of your daze. You wonder at first if it’s the general, but then you remember that he’s off the ship for the evening, attending an officials’ ball on Chandrila. Slowly, you roll out of bed, still wrapped in a blanket, and enter the code to open your door. Before you stands Kylo Ren, unmistakeable in his dark robes, his hair messy and tangled, his posture tired and worn-down. You reach for each other at the same time, and Kylo catches your hand, rubs it gently between his gloved fingers. Slowly, you reach up with your other hand to touch the side of his face, to brush your fingers across his cheek. His skin is warm, his cheeks flushed, but the dark circles under his eyes are what catches your attention the most.

 

“I’ve missed you, Little One,” he murmurs. His voice even sounds tired, like he hasn’t slept in weeks. “May I come in?”   
  
“Of course,” you say. However, before he crosses the threshold of your room, he bows and presses his forehead to yours. He’s done this before, back when the two of you studied late into the night on the Finalizer, on your half-days of work. You reach up to stroke his hair, which is slightly damp between your fingers. But he smells pleasantly of the regulation soap, which leads you to believe he bathed before he came to see you. 

 

You take him by one hand and lead him into your room, where he drapes his heavy cowl over one of your kitchen chairs. He rubs his eyes and yawns, but he allows you to lead him to your bed, where he sits on the very edge, twisting his robes in his hands. One by one, he removes his gloves, tossing them on the floor, followed by his boots. His socks are bunched around his ankles, and he slides those off, too, kicking them under your bed. You climb back into bed, but you lean against his back, looping your arms around his waist as he slowly relaxes. 

 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. You draw little patterns on his robes, and you feel his large hands cover your own, interlacing with your fingers. 

 

“I’ve missed you,” he repeats. “I’ve reached out to you with the Force, to make sure you were safe, so when I returned, I would know you would be there.”

 

He turns, letting go of your hands and lounging on your bed, nuzzling your fluffy comforter. You think he’s fallen asleep until he sits up to reach for you, pulling you down next to him. He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, as he begins to purr softly. His hands slide up your back, gentle but firm, easing the tension away. Finally, his plush lips meet your own, his kiss slow and undemanding, as patient as you’ve been anxious. 

 

Your hands go for his belt, unclasping it and tossing it aside, and Kylo lets out a shaky breath, rolling over you so he’s straddling your legs. He cups your face in his hands as he continues kissing you, tugging gently at your bottom lip with his teeth. He stops once or twice to just nuzzle you, before kissing you again. You pull at his robes, and as he kisses you, you can feel him smile. His hands cover yours as he pulls away to allow you to strip him of his heavy outer robes and shirt and toss them onto the floor. Even in the darkness, his eyes stand out to you, full of hope and genuine feeling and maybe even a little nervousness. 

 

You run your hands over the hard muscles of his chest and stomach, your fingers dancing lightly over his body, feeling the warmth and firmness, and feeling his steady heartbeat. Kylo’s eyes close as you do so, and he allows you to pull him back down to kiss him more, his nose brushing against yours as he angles his head to kiss you more firmly. His hands run up and down your sides, and you place them over the buttons of your nightshirt, letting him unbutton the tiny buttons with surprising dexterity. You lean into him as he helps you out of it, leaving you only in your bralette and panties. 

 

“If you want me to stop, just tell me,” he murmurs, his voice sweet. “And I will. I promise.”   
  
“Promise?” you ask, even though you know he will. 

  
“I would never hurt you, Little One,” he says. “I never want to.”

 

For a long time, he runs his hands over your body, never pinching or squeezing too hard. His hands are warm, a little calloused, but so gentle. His gentle purrs lull you into a calm, contented state, and you melt under his touch so naturally. Something about him calms you in a way you never realized before, and you’re surprised to find you’re not scared because of it. Instead, you find yourself wanting to forget the rest of the world: the Order, the war, the Supreme Leader. 

 

Kylo unfastens his pants and kicks them to the floor, and returns to kissing you, savoring you, memorizing every inch of your body. He begins kissing your neck, making his way down to your collarbone, purring the whole time. His eyes are closed, and the dark fan of his eyelashes is a striking contrast to his pale skin. You run your fingers through his damp hair, scratching gently at his scalp. He leans into your touch, nuzzling at your hands. His skin is almost hot against yours, and you hardly feel the cool air of your room. 

 

“Tell me what you want to do, Little One,” Kylo says, “All you have to do is show me.”   
  
You sit up, and Kylo follows you, still kissing you, as you reach behind and unfasten your bra, tossing it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Kylo’s hands come to cup your breasts, squeezing gently, before cupping your face again. Your hands trace the hard lines of his stomach, pulling at the waistband of his underwear. Kylo smiles into the kiss again, and pulls your legs around his waist, encouraging you to wrap them around his back, his legs caging you in. 

  
  


“I want to stay here,” he whispers. “Tell me something I can hold onto and never let go.” 

 

You stop for a moment, to lay your head on his shoulder while he rubs gentle circles into your back. The request is simple, but it troubles you, because you don’t know if you can say that he can hold onto you forever. You’ve both got your separate duties, and this is the closest you’ve ever been to each other. You wonder if he’ll still want to stay afterwards. 

 

“Can I hold onto you, Little One?” he asks. “Will you be here when the morning comes?”

 

“Yes,” you say, but you wonder if it’s a promise you can keep. “But will you stay?”   
  
“Of course.”    
  


Kylo kisses the side of your neck, over and over until you pull away to kiss him again, fighting the stinging in your eyes. You loop your arms around his neck, and he nuzzles you, trying to comfort you. The affection he’s showing isn’t out of the ordinary, but it’s much more intimate than you’ve ever seen before from him.

 

“I want you, Kylo,” you dare to say, almost too quietly to hear. “Please.”   
  
“Will I be the first?” he asks. 

 

You’ve had a few experiences back in the academy, but nothing like this, and ever since you started your time on the Finalizer, you’ve had no one, mainly due to your separation from your fellow officers.

 

“Yes,” you reply. 

 

Wordlessly, Kylo untangles himself from you, so he can let you guide him. You pull his underwear down, let him kick it off the side of the bed, and guide his hands to your own waistband. He kisses your stomach gently, kisses so light and gentle that you barely feel them. He loops his fingers into the soft lace and pulls down, tossing your panties to the floor. As he makes his way back up to kiss you, you feel the heat of his cock against your inner thigh. But Kylo’s movements are slow, giving you time to stop him if you want. 

 

“What are you thinking about right now?” you ask, tracing a finger over his arms, connecting his moles, one by one. 

“How much I wish we could stay like this forever,” he says. “And how much I wish we could just run away and never return. We could live on the lake, sleep under the fruit trees, make wine together and sell it in the little towns.”   
  
“I never took you for someone to want to settle down like that,” you say, with a little laugh. “I always thought you’d want to adventure, see the galaxy.”    
  
“Once, I did,” he admits. “But now, I don’t know.”

 

He lays you down underneath him, and for a long moment, he just looks at you, trying to read you. His brows are furrowed, his eyes flicker over your body, and one hand comes up to push your hair out of your eyes. 

 

“Will you have me, Little One?” he asks. “For tonight?”   
  
“From this moment on,” you say. “I’ll be yours.”   
  
Kylo inches down the bed, settling between your legs, his breath hot on your core. He kisses your inner thighs, sucking little marks there and soothing them with his tongue. He kisses the delicate skin of the crease where your thigh meets the rest of your body, making you shiver. Finally, he closes his mouth over your dripping center, alternating between flattening his tongue against you and sucking. One of your hands comes to tangle in his hair when he eases two thick fingers into you, curling them and twisting them, trying to find the spot inside you that makes you see stars. 

 

He curls them upwards, eliciting a quiet, needy moan from you, and he adds a third finger, stretching you further for him, preparing you as he suckles your clit, worrying it with his tongue. His free hand is holding one of your own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles that mirror his actions on your clit. He sucks harder, curling his fingers against you and applying steady pressure inside you, until you’re moaning his name and falling apart as he draws your orgasm out, the cold wave that washes over you turning hot, your hips bucking up towards his mouth, your hand squeezing his as he slowly brings you down. 

 

He laps at you softly, his tongue sliding into you beside his fingers as he tastes you, and you shake as he swipes his tongue over your sensitive clit. After what seems like an eternity, he slides his fingers and tongue out of you, sucking the last of your release off his fingers before he comes up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You reach down to take him in your hand, startled when you realize that your fingers don’t meet when you wrap your hand around him. You’re even more shocked when you stroke him, feeling the length of him. You don’t have to look to tell that he’s bigger than anyone you’ve touched before, and the fact that he’ll be your first scares you a little more than you’d like it to. He must feel your hesitation, because he kisses the curve of your ear, puts his hand over yours and unwraps your fingers. 

 

“If it’s too much, we don’t have to,” he reminds you. “I don’t have to be your first.”   
  
“I want you to be,” you say, and inadvertently, your voice breaks mid-sentence. Kylo kisses you again, swiping his fingers over your cheek, trying to wipe away tears that aren’t there. 

 

“Alright, Little One,” he replies. Gently, he guides you into his lap, lines his cock against your slit, and rubs the head against your clit a few times. He’s hard and hot against you, and even though you know you’re more than wet enough to take him, it still scares you a little. Kylo takes the hand resting at his waist and guides it to his cock, lets you feel the girth of it, and has you guide him. 

 

You ease him into you slowly, savoring the stretch of his cock inside you, filling you in a way you’ve never known. You sink down slowly, every inch that you take feeling like he might be pushing everything aside in you, but you breathe deeply, and Kylo’s kisses help ease your tension. His hands hold your waist, making sure you don’t take too much before you’re ready, and your hands rest on his thighs as you finally sink down the last inch, so you’re sitting flush with his hips. He feels massive inside you, and you feel like you can hardly breathe for the girth and mass of him. 

 

“Shhhh, just breathe,” he coos. “Tell me when you’re ready.”    
  
You dare to lean forward as his hands slide up your back, resting your head in the crook of his neck. He makes gentle, soothing noises as he grinds up into you, settling you into his lap more comfortably. 

 

“I’m ready,” you murmur, kissing right below his ear. 

 

Kylo thrusts up into you, slowly at first, letting you feel him sliding in and out, and gradually, he increases his speed, encouraging you to circle your hips, to follow his rhythm, He feels amazing in you as you relax, the slide and stretch of him erasing everything from your mind but the moment. He reaches down, and after a moment, begins to rub your clit in small, fast circles. You’re immediately clenching around him, gasping as he thrusts faster, harder, putting hard, steady pressure on your cervix as he continues to rub and pinch your clit. 

 

“Kylo, Kylo, I’m so close, I need—” you stammer out, finding it difficult to form words as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge again. Your nails scratch along his back, a silent plea for more. 

 

“Let go, Little One,” he murmurs. “Let go.”

 

Your orgasm hits you with a frightening intensity as your toes curl and you moan Kylo’s name over and over, your voice lowering to a soft, desperate whisper. His hand leaves your clit as he brings you down, and his arms circle your waist now as he chases his own release. Kylo thrusts into you one, two, three more times before burying himself into you as deep as he can go, and cums with a low growl, his cheek pressed against yours. His breath his hot and uneven against your skin, his arms wrapped around you tightly, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. 

 

You stay like that for a long time, in each other’s arms, the only sound in the room coming from Kylo’s heavy breaths and the occasional rustling of blankets. Finally, Kylo lifts you off his cock, fumbling blindly for something to clean you up, before simply cradling you in his arms and carrying you off to the bathroom. Your room is one of the only rooms in your section with a large bathtub, just big enough for you both, and Kylo turns the water on as he settles you in the tub and gets in after you, pulling you into his lap and letting you rest against his chest. As the water reaches past your waist, you go to turn it off, but Kylo eases you back, lets the water go for a little longer, and finally turns it off when it’s almost over your shoulders. 

 

Your head rests against his chest, and your ear is pressed right over his heart. His heartbeat is steady, even if it is a little faster than what might be normal. Kylo’s arms are wrapped around you, holding you carefully in his lap as he kisses the top of your head. You nuzzle his bare chest, realizing with a start that your tears from earlier are finally flowing as you bask in the warmth of the water and the firmness of Kylo’s embrace. 

 

“I love you,” Kylo says quietly. “Don’t cry, Little One, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

His words only make you cry more, and you’re faintly aware of Kylo readjusting you in his arms so you can rest your head on his shoulder and he can kiss you. His hand combs through your damp hair, his fingers rubbing your scalp gently, easing the very last of your tension from your body. 

 

“Tell me something I can hold onto and never let go,” you say, echoing his words from before. 

 

“Stay, and hold onto me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my second time handling soft dom Kylo! I think he's becoming one of my favorite things to write, and I know a lot of you really enjoyed the last time I wrote him! kudos and comments are appreciated, because it lets me know that I should be writing more. come visit me on [my Tumblr](http://www.loganclyde.tumblr.com) and say hi, if you'd like!


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